


blind date (surprise, surprise)

by carissima



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: First Dates, M/M, Misunderstandings, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 22:30:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5266181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carissima/pseuds/carissima
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The waiter appears with two menus, his face lit up like he’s genuinely happy that Liam’s date has turned up and is shoving two menus into their hands. Except this guy isn’t his date, has clearly sat down at the wrong table and Liam really, really needs to correct him before this gets any more embarrassing than it already is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	blind date (surprise, surprise)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [badjujuboo (miztrezboo)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/miztrezboo/gifts).



> Based off this prompt: “you’re supposed to be on a blind date with someone but you sat down at the wrong table and i haven’t been able to get a word in edgewise to tell you that and it’s been thirty minutes” au 
> 
> Cass you gave me so many prompts but this one just jumped out at me, I really, really you like it!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!
> 
> This is unbeta'd (sorry, sorry!) and therefore all mistakes are 100% my own. And yes, the title is an homage of sorts to Cilla Black.

Liam’s been here before.

Well, not this exact restaurant – which is a lot nicer than he’d expected, since it was a recommendation from Louis and his usual haunts generally had Liam sitting in some cheap café with plastic tablecloths and cutlery in a pot on the table – but he’s definitely been in this position before.

The door opens and Liam looks up hopefully – just as he has every other time the bell above the door has rung to announce a new arrival – but it’s not her. He drops his head back into his hands and checks his watch again. He’d booked the table for 7 o’clock and it’s now almost 8. He’s not had a text to tell him that she’s running late or got trapped in an elevator or anything else that would detain her for an hour. And the waiter keeps bringing him olives and bread and another coke. “On the house mate,” he was assured, because even the nice Irish waiter could see how terribly Liam’s evening was going.

He’s just reaching for his wallet to put down a healthy tip - because the nice waiter hasn’t even tried to hurry him along or get him to leave the table - when someone drops into the seat opposite him.

Liam looks up in relief, wondering how he’d missed the chime of the door, only to find himself staring into green eyes that definitely do not belong to the girl he’d been talking to on Tinder for the past four weeks.

“Sorry I’m late,” the guy says, running his hand through his long, wavy hair and grimacing. Liam watches perplexedly as he pulls a hairband out of his pocket – of his extremely tight fitting black jeans – and adeptly ties his hair back into a messy bun.

Nicola would be impressed, Liam manages to think before the guy leans in and touches the back of Liam’s hand where it’s resting on the table.

“You must have been waiting ages,” the guy says, and Liam nods in surprise. An hour probably is ages, now he thinks about it. “I’m really sorry. I’m here now though and I’m starving. You’re hungry, right?”

“Yeah,” Liam croaks before the guy is leaning back into his own space and letting Liam breathe easily for the first time since the guy had sat down.

The waiter appears with two menus, his face lit up like he’s genuinely happy that Liam’s date has turned up – except this guy isn’t his date, has clearly sat down at the wrong table and Liam really, really needs to correct him before this gets any more embarrassing than it already is – and is shoving two menus into their hands.

“Specials today are seabass and beef medallions,” he says by rote. “Can I get you some drinks?”

“Oh,” Liam says, wincing as he closes the menu and tries to hand it back to the waiter who is determinedly staring elsewhere. “Um, look-“

“I think I’ll have the grape and elderflower, please,” the guy says over Liam’s attempt to confess. Then he nods firmly. “Yeah, that’s what I’ll have thanks.”

“And for you, sir?” the waiter asks, turning to Liam but still unable to see the menu that Liam’s desperately trying to push into his hands. “Another coke?”

Before Liam can say no, and launch into what is bound to be the most humiliating speech of his life where he explains this mix up, the waiter is scribbling in his notepad and wandering away, leaving Liam open-mouthed and staring after him.

“A boy could get jealous, you know.”

Liam turns back to his not-date in surprise. “I was just trying to tell him …” he trails off, unsure how to explain the situation.

“Oh, I forgot to introduce myself.” His not-date extends his hand over the table. Liam automatically offers his own, and they shake. “I’m Harry.”

“Uh, I’m Liam,” he says, even more confused than ever. “Look, I think there’s been some kind of mistake.”

Harry’s thumb brushes over his before he pulls his hand back. “Yeah?”

“You’ve sat down at the wrong table,” Liam says hurriedly because his mum always said ripping off a plaster was best done quickly. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you, but I was here for a date and you’re here – well, I don’t know why you’re here but it’s not for me. I’m sorry.”

He feels utterly miserable.

“Liam,” Harry says slowly, and Liam’s starting to realise that it’s just the way Harry speaks, like he’s thinking about every syllable that comes out of his mouth. Unlike Liam who has a serious problem with blurting out his every thought. “Do you believe in fate?”

Liam frowns, leaning back a little so that the waiter can put their drinks down. “Are you ready to order?”

“I’ll have the chicken salad,” Harry says, closing his menu and handing it back to the waiter with smile that lights up his face. Liam’s so busy staring at him that he almost knocks his coke over at the waiter’s discreet cough.

“Oh, um,” Liam ducks his head, aware that his face is flaming in embarrassment as he stares at the menu for the first time. He picks the first thing he sees. “The carbonara please.”

The waiter takes their menus and disappears again, leaving Liam to glance up at Harry with what he hopes are only slightly pink cheeks by now. “You mean destiny?”

“Fate, destiny, serendipity, pure luck,” Harry recites easily. “Whatever you choose to call it. Do you believe in it?”

When Liam was nine, he met Andy at the park. Andy was playing football while Liam, looking to burn off some excess energy, was running. He circled the park three times before he noticed Andy staring at him. When he’d slowed down to ask him if there was something wrong, Andy shook his head and introduced himself before inviting Liam to join him. Liam wasn’t a big fan of football but he didn’t mind being in goal so much. An hour later, he’d realised he’d met his best mate and that was that.

“I guess so,” Liam says finally, his shoulders a little hunched over as he waits for the inevitable laugh at his silly thoughts.

“Me too,” Harry says and he knocks his foot gently against Liam’s under the table. “Let’s just say this is fate, yeah?”

Liam’s not sure that being stood up counts as fate. But he returns Harry’s smile and doesn’t move his foot away when Harry hooks his boot around Liam’s ankle. “So who were you here to meet then?”

Harry takes a sip of his drink before he looks up at Liam with a grin. “According to fate, it was you, Liam. You’re the person I was meant to meet.”

“You’re very odd,” Liam blurts out before his eyes widen and he covers his mouth with his hand. “Shit. Sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

“It’s okay,” Harry says easily. “My sister tells me that every day. I don’t mind.”

Liam still feels awful though. “This is why I get stood up on dates,” he says miserably. “I always say the wrong thing and mess it up.”

“Are you always this hard on yourself?” Harry asks curiously.

Liam shrugs glumly. “If you want to leave, it’s okay. I don’t mind.”

“Well, I mind because I’m having a nice time,” Harry tells him. “You’re a nice person, Liam.”

Liam’s well aware that ‘nice’ is a description people get before they’re ditched on a date, or left picking up the bill and never seeing that person again. But he manages a smile and then the waiter’s appearing with their food, which serves as enough of a distraction for a few minutes.

Harry asks him about his family, and drags a few stories about Nicola and Ruth from him. Soon enough, Liam’s trying to explain to Harry that his mum hasn’t stopped crying since he moved to London two years ago to take up a job at Capital Radio as a sound engineer.

Harry laughs between mouthfuls, sometimes with an inelegant snort that makes Liam laugh, and he tells Liam in turn about how he’d followed his sister to London and is currently crashing on her sofa, to her annoyance, while he takes night classes and works at a coffee shop during the day.

Aware that he’s probably going to get dumped twice in the same night, Liam does his best to remember that and not get lost in Harry’s charming stories or his terrible puns – which Liam is finding more endearing by the minute.

He finally relaxes around the time they finish their meals and he listens to Harry explaining how he met Nick Grimshaw by literally falling into him – most of Harry’s stories seem to start or end with his inability to stay on his feet – and how they’re practically best mates now. Liam restrains himself from asking a million questions about the DJ, despite his desperation to know if Nick’s got any job openings on the show. Liam currently works the afternoon slot at Capital and its great, but it’s not Radio One’s Breakfast Show.

“Any dessert?” the waiter pops up again to start clearing their plates away and Liam tries not to tense up. If Harry doesn’t want dessert, their date will end and Liam probably won’t see him ever again. And Liam really wants to see Harry again. He’s a bit strange and dorky and into a lot of things that Liam doesn’t even pretend to understand. But he really, really wants to see him again.

Liam holds his breath as he waits for Harry to answer.

“Um, I don’t really have a sweet tooth,” Harry says, almost sounding apologetic. Liam’s about to fumble around for his wallet and get out of there as quickly as he can when Harry reaches over to curl his fingers around Liam’s wrist. “Do you want one though? I can have a herbal tea or something.”

Liam’s aware of a menu being placed in his hands and his eyes glaze over a bit before he tries to focus. “Um, the cheesecake?”

“Good choice,” the waiter tells him encouragingly, and even pats his shoulder before he’s moving away.

“So Liam,” Harry says, leaning his elbows down on the table and giving Liam a fixed look. “What else do you like, except music and cheesecake?”

“Uh, I dunno really,” Liam says honestly. His knee bumps against Harry’s under the table but neither of them move away. “I like running. I run most mornings, just around one of the big parks. And uh, just hanging out with my mates, I guess.”

Harry starts a long, rambling discussion of the different training regimes he’s tried, from boxing to running to yoga and spin classes. Halfway through, Harry’s tea and Liam’s dessert arrive and Liam ends up sharing half his cheesecake with Harry, who does in fact have a very sweet tooth.

Not that Liam minds at all.

He insists on paying the bill when it comes, despite Harry’s protests. “Hey, it was my date,” Liam points out.

“That I crashed,” Harry argues.

Liam puts his card down on the silver plate and moves it out of Harry’s reach. “I’m really glad you did, by the way,” he says softly before he bites down on his bottom lip nervously.

Harry’s knee brushes against his under the table again. “Me too. You’re a lovely lad, Liam.”

Liam ducks his head to hide his blush, although he suspects that Harry’s sharp eyes don’t miss anything.

“I just need to pop to the loo then,” Harry says, squeezing Liam’s knee before he stands up. Liam watches him turn the corner and waits patiently for the waiter to return with the card reader. It’s a different waiter who turns up to take payment and Liam waits for him to leave before he puts a tip down, hoping it goes to the nice blond Irish waiter who’d looked after him for the first hour and seemed to be fully supportive of his date with Harry.

Harry’s been gone for over 10 minutes before Liam starts to get worried that he’s lost his way back or something. He takes another look around the restaurant but Harry’s nowhere to be seen, so he picks up his things and heads for the loos.

After an embarrassing few minutes that he’d rather forget of hanging around in the toilets to determine that Harry definitely isn’t in there, Liam checks back at the table but Harry’s not there either.

His heart sinks as he realises Harry’s ditched him.

It’s not like he should really be surprised at this point. He’s already been ditched once this evening. But twice in an evening is a record even for him, and what’s even worse is that he’d really started to believe that they were having a nice time. A really nice time. He’d even thought, just for a little while, that Harry had been enjoying himself.

But of course he hadn’t.

Liam pulls his jacket on and takes a deep breath while he’s alone in the hallway. He’s just about to head outside when a waiter appears through the kitchen door opposite and he can see Harry talking to the waiter who’d served them all night.

He’s laughing, his head bent forwards as he presses a hand into his side, like he’s been laughing so hard that it hurts.

Harry didn’t laugh like that at all in the two hours they just spent together, Liam thinks blankly.

And Harry didn’t hold Liam’s wrist the way he’s holding the waiter’s wrist, both of them casually crowding into each other’s space.

The way Liam wants to crowd into Harry’s space.

“You’re such an idiot,” he hears the waiter say before the door closes. “Harry, what have you gotten yourself into?”

“I know,” Harry says, but he’s still laughing. “Trust me Niall, I know, okay?”

Liam stares at the door as it closes, leaving him alone on the outside. The air feels too thin and hot, and Liam stumbles towards the restaurant door, pushing it open and breathing in a lungful of sharp, cold air.

“Of course,” he says quietly to himself. He really ought to know better by now. When something – or someone – seems too good to be true, it usually means they are.

Liam gives himself a moment to compose himself before he starts the long walk home.

“Liam?”

Harry’s call makes him freeze, hands shoved in his jacket pockets as his shoulders hunch upwards naturally.

“Liam? Are you okay?” Harry asks, jogging towards him with a confused look on his face. It’s adorable and Liam wants to just die on the spot.

“Yeah,” he says, almost apologetically before he remembers what he witnessed in the kitchen. “Just, like, it’s okay. You don’t have to explain.”

“Okay,” Harry says slowly. “Explain what?”

Liam gestures between them and shrugs awkwardly. “I get it. You and the waiter, Niall, right? You were messing with me.”

“We were?” Harry repeats, still looking confused.

“I saw you in the kitchen, laughing at me,” Liam says, his cheeks flushing with mortification. “You saw I’d been stood up and you decided to have a laugh at my expense. I’m sure you both found it really funny, but if you don’t mind I’m just going to go home.”

Harry moves quickly, his fingers closing around Liam’s wrist and holding on with a surprisingly firm grip. “Liam, wait. We weren’t laughing at you.”

Liam wonders if it would be impolite to just shake Harry off. “Harry, it’s okay. It’s not like it’s the first time. But I’d just really like to go home now, please.”

“Liam,” Harry says as urgently as Liam’s ever heard him speak. “We weren’t laughing at you, I promise. I was hanging out with Niall because I was bored and I like to annoy him at work. And he mentioned there was a cute boy who’d been stood up but that he seemed really nice and sweet.”

Liam shivers when Harry’s thumb rubs over his pulse, under his jacket sleeve.

“Turns out he was right,” Harry murmurs with a smile that is both endearing and devastating to Liam’s resistance. “So I snuck through the restaurant and just kind of talked you into a date.”

“It’s not like I needed much persuading,” Liam points out. And ducks his head when Harry’s hand slides down to join their fingers together. “I wanted you to stay.”

Harry’s smile lights his entire face up and his dimples flash. Liam can’t help but just stare back at him. “I’m glad I did. Because you’re nice and sweet. And you’re really, really gorgeous.”

Liam’s about to stutter out a denial when Harry steps in, forcing Liam’s gaze up and then Harry kisses him.

It’s soft and sweet and Liam can feel himself melting into Harry’s arms, where they’re wrapped tightly around his waist. “You can’t be real,” Liam mumbles against Harry’s lips, before he’s cupping Harry’s face and kissing him enthusiastically, nipping at his bottom lip until Harry laughs and pulls back, leaning his forehead against Liam’s while they both catch their breath, watching each other with matching grins.

“Let me walk you home,” Harry says eventually when several couples have walked past, laughing and smiling at them.

Liam’s still not entirely sure that Harry’s really interested in him, but he smells insanely good and Liam’s still a little off-balance from that kiss so he nods, somewhat grateful when Harry keeps an arm wrapped around his waist and they start walking together, smiling whenever they catch each other staring.

“So this is me,” Liam says eventually. They stop on the pavement and Liam gestures up to the dark brown door that leads into his bedsit on the third floor. His place is small, but it’s all his and after sharing with Louis for two years, he’s extremely grateful for his own space.

He makes a move towards the steps leading up when Harry tugs on his arm, pouting up at him.

“Hey, no goodnight kiss?” Harry asks casually.

“Oh.” Liam moves back into Harry’s space, waiting for Harry to step back but he stays where he is, his hands sliding down Liam’s arms to settle easily on his hips. “I thought maybe you’d like to come up. I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I kind of hoped that you maybe did?”

Harry huffs out a laugh and kisses him. “God, yes please.”

“Yeah?” Liam asks, pleased as he turns to bounce up the steps and unlock the front door. He tugs Harry inside, shutting the door behind them before he leads the way upstairs, flicking on the light to reveal his little kitchenette and bedroom-slash-living room. “It’s not much, but I like it.”

Harry slides his hand down Liam’s back. “You’re so nice, Liam.”

“You keep calling me nice,” Liam murmurs. It’s not a complaint, exactly.

“You _are_ really nice,” Harry insists. His fingers are playing with the hem of Liam’s shirt, under his jacket. “Really, _really_ nice.”

Liam hums thoughtfully. It’s easy to slip his jacket off, leaving it to fall to the floor. And it’s even easier to let Harry slip his hands up under his shirt, to lean into his touch and press his lips against Harry’s neck where it’s tilted up, just waiting for him. “Nice, hmm?”

“Really nice,” Harry agrees, sounding a little breathless now. “And fit. Did I mention that?” His fingers skate over Liam’s lean torso and they both shiver a little. “I really like you.”

“Yeah?” Liam says, grinning as he starts to undo the buttons on Harry’s shirt. When he looks down, he blinks in surprise at the array of tattoos on display in front of him.

“Have I told you that you give me butterflies?” Harry grins at him.

Liam holds in a groan and skims his hands over Harry’s warm, smooth skin instead. “Your jokes are awful.”

“Heyyy,” Harry whines, until Liam pulls him in for a hot, wet kiss.

“I really, really like you too,” Liam tells him softly when they pull apart. “Like, a lot.”

Harry beams at him before he starts pawing at Liam’s shirt, chanting “off, off, off!” until Liam’s shirtless and half-hard in his jeans. “Wow.”

“Shut up,” Liam tells him while he fumbles with the zip on Harry’s jeans. “Christ, are these painted on?”

It takes them both far too long – with a lot of giggles and cursing – to get Harry’s jeans off. There are more discovered tattoos that Liam’s curious about but for right now, he’s more concerned about kicking his own jeans off and stumbling over towards his unmade bed, Harry plastered against his back and they somehow fall together onto the mattress. Liam ends up with Harry’s elbow in his ribs and it takes him a few seconds to catch his breath while Harry mouths at his dick through the soft cotton of his boxers.

“Shit,” Liam mutters, hooking his fingers in the waistband of his boxers and pushing them down. When he sees Harry lick his lips at the sight of his dick, Liam gives up on everything except laying back and enjoying the feel of Harry’s lips wrapped around his cock and listening to the frankly pornographic noises Harry makes around his dick.

He comes embarrassingly fast, but he’s quickly distracted by the sight of Harry’s tongue flicking out to catch a stray drop of his come and he barely gets used to the feel of Harry’s cock in his hand before he’s coming over Liam’s fist. Liam mouths lazily at Harry’s shoulder before he slides out of bed to clean up.

“Liaaaaam,” Harry whines.

Liam glances over his shoulder to see Harry sprawled on his bed, naked and obviously trying to pose sexily with his hair falling over his shoulder.

Liam bursts out laughing and wipes his hands on a towel before he climbs into bed, pushing Harry onto his back and caging him in. “You’re utterly ridiculous.”

“You like me,” Harry says smugly, winding his arms around Liam’s neck.

“Yeah,” Liam murmurs, leaning down to nudge his nose against Harry’s. “Yeah, I do.”


End file.
